


Encounters

by Hannigrammatic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Meetings, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8784298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: Will Graham is always the new kid. He's used to a lonely life, neglected by his father and peers. They move into a neighborhood that is hardly memorable; that is, until he meets another boy named Hannibal Lecter.Gifting this to my lovely friend itsbeautiful ♥ You are truly a constant motivator and inspiration. Someday, I truly wish to meet you and share lots of hugs and flails ^_^





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsbeautiful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsbeautiful/gifts).



> A one-shot for now :) Started writing this a week or so back, it's going to span through their relationship, and through their lives as they grow older, if everything works out! Just starting it here for now until the motivation burns in me again ♥

When they first move into the apartment, Will is entirely unimpressed. His room is so small it must resemble a moderately-sized walk-in closet instead of an actual bedroom. He unloads his old, tatty mattress into it and finds there’s not much space for anything else, not that he has much for furniture anyway. The bulky desk he built in carpentry class takes up the remaining free space, and that’s where he keeps his notebooks, thick coil-spined things full of writings and drawings both. He has an old computer chair that his father threatens to throw out every time they move, and it sits lopsided in front of the desk, awaiting him.

Their new neighborhood is quiet. Eerily so, at least to Will. His father is content to come home and sit out back and smoke and drink and then pass out. He leaves his son to fend for himself for the most part, and Will grows up thinking that that’s how it’s supposed to work. He’s seventeen, and he’s in his last year of highschool. (Often, he wishes he could have been tutored at home, considering the amount of times they’ve moved. Always the new kid got old really fast, and he found himself dreading it each time just a little more.) 

This morning when he wakes up for his first day, he doesn’t bother tidying his hair. He lets it fly wild, props his glasses on his nose, shrugs a sweater and pulls some jeans on, and then shoulders his backpack. He walks the half of a mile in ratty sneakers, head low and face arranged into an avoidant frown. He meets with the secretary, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, who brings him to his homeroom before the bell has rung to meet his teacher.

Miss Bloom is incredibly pretty. Her striking blue eyes and red-lipped grin allow him to feel at ease. She gives him his schedule, and shows him to a seat that she assures him is empty, in the front row. He offers his best little smile, sits down to take his books out, and pretends not to look at her. A very deep look within himself tells him he wishes she were his mother, certain in the way he normally is that Miss Bloom is a nurturer, even past taking on the role of a teacher. He knows innately that she would make a great parent, and wonders why she doesn’t have any children (he’s pretty certain that if she did, their pictures would be all over her desk.)

The bell rings ten minutes later, and the other teens begin to pile in. Most of them peer at him curiously, some raise eyebrows, others ignore him altogether. The back row is filled immediately, then the row ahead of that, and so on and so forth, until the stragglers left behind are forced to sit in the front row.

Miss Bloom barely has to raise her voice to get the classroom to hush.

“Today, we have a new student joining us,” she announces with a smile. “Everyone, this is Will.”

Beyond that, and the murmured words of greeting, there is no awkward, forced introduction on his part. Will begins to like Miss Bloom that much more. They begin their lesson, and he is as attentive as anyone is, though one of his hands is busy doodling in the margins of paper. Anxiety makes him hyper aware of the classroom, every noise just a little louder -every shuffle of sneakers, every scrape of a chair moving away from a desk, the sniffling issuing out of a few students getting over a cold.

At the end of class, they are given a ten minute reprieve to make it to the next. Will packs away his things and waits until there isn’t such a rush to make it out the classroom door. He waves at Miss Bloom before ducking his head and leaving.

“Excuse me,” a voice says, tone almost demanding his attention. “Will, was it?”

Will stops in the hall and looks over his shoulder. Besides having a strong accent, Will is perplexed at the sight of the teen walking up to him, all gelled hair and fancy clothes. He looks ridiculous next to a frowzy Will. Or Will looks ridiculous standing next to him.

“Hi,” Will isn’t certain whether the word is a question or a returned greeting.

“I’m Hannibal,” the other boy holds out a hand expectantly.

Staring at it, Will blinks, glances up at brown eyes, and then reaches with his own hand to clasp Hannibal’s while his gaze falls away to a locker nearby.

“Nice to meet you,” he thinks that comes out more as a statement than a question, maybe.

“And you,” he can hear the smile in the other’s words, somehow. His accent really is strong.

“Where are you from?” Will blurts out before he can stop himself.

Hannibal sniffs at the air, and Will meets his dark eyes for a second again.

“Sorry,” he says, eyes dropping to Hannibal’s shiny shoes.

“Don’t be,” the other teen sounds curious all of a sudden. “I’m from Europe. Lithuania to be exact.”

“Oh,” Will knows nothing about that place. “That’s neat.”

A beat of silence between them passes. Around them, however, there is anything but quiet, the pandemonium of students rushing to see their friends or tend to their lockers rising in a constant tide. Barely five minutes has passed, when truly it feels like an hour has, for Will. He wants to find his next class and be away from this strange, new person attempting communication with him. 

“And you?” Hannibal inquires. 

He’s already well into puberty, or has been for a while, with how deep his voice is. Will feels like a little boy next to him. 

“Uhm,” Will says intelligently. “Well, nowhere really. Or everywhere. We move a lot.”

“I see.”

Will doesn’t think he does. He nods, though.

“Walk with me?” Hannibal asks.

With no way to remove himself from the situation politely, Will shrugs one shoulder in acceptance and follows Hannibal down the hallway, weaving out of the way of the thinning crowd. He learns very quickly that they share their next class together, and a perusal of both of their schedules informs him that they have last period together as well. Will isn’t certain how to feel about that, especially with how Hannibal appears to be the type to press on the whole socializing thing. Still, he recognizes the fact that more often than not, most people treat him as if he truly is invisible.

Will thinks that maybe he can try not to live up to that for once. At least for now.

“How do you like it here so far?” Hannibal asks as they walk together.

Will is busy avoiding the stares of several students, some of them looking genuinely shocked to see him walking next to Hannibal. 

“It’s okay,” Will mutters. “I make a point of avoiding any lasting impressions.”

“Because you won’t be here long?”

Hannibal bumps into him very slightly, veering to move out of the way of a kid rushing passed far too quickly. Startled, Will jumps a bit.

“Yeah, that,” he says, recovering and moving a few inches away once more.

 

As much as he prefers to avoid strangers, he would rather not touch or be touched by them even more. If Hannibal notices his reaction, he doesn’t say anything (thankfully.)

They peter off into silence as they reach their class, with ample time to spare before the bell. Will sits in one of the front seats again, and Hannibal next to him. 

“Do you live close to the school?” Hannibal asks as they wait.

The other teen’s books are ordered neatly on his desk, his pencil laying straight next to the spine of his closed textbook. Hannibal sits prim and proper in his chair, hands resting in his lap. Will, slouching over his own, narrows his eyes from beneath the fringe of his curly brown hair.

“Kind of,” he says. “Why?”

“I’m merely curious,” Hannibal smiles in a way that is very particular to him. “You sound defensive. I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” Will glares at his hands.

They don’t speak again until class is over, and then it is only a brief farewell before they part ways. Will finds himself inexplicably unsettled to be alone once more, and he realizes, with a start, that he had begun to grow used to Hannibal’s presence. Will isn’t certain what to think about that, so he doesn’t think anything at all.

Until last period, when he chooses specifically to sit next to the other boy. Hannibal’s pleasure at this is only determined by a quick look into nearly glittering eyes. Will huffs.

“I didn’t see you at lunch,” Hannibal speaks over the din of arriving students.

“I hate cafeterias,” Will shudders. “Loud and dirty.”

“Never anywhere to sit,” the other smirks over at him.

Found out, Will forces a shrug. Inwardly, he can’t get over his shock at how easy it is to converse with this strange boy. Hannibal is clearly very observant, definitely quite intelligent, and Will is undeniably intrigued despite himself. There is hardly any hope inside of him that he has found a friend, but there is life within him at the possibility of maybe being wrong.

He decides it can’t hurt to try to get to know Hannibal, at the very least


End file.
